


Unexpected Gifts

by yosaffbridge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 07:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yosaffbridge/pseuds/yosaffbridge
Summary: Hermione returns to the Burrow for Christmas two years after her breakup with Ron over a huge misunderstanding.





	Unexpected Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the following fic challenge: "A way-post-Hogwarts one: Ron and Hermione broke up after what they thought was an unforgivable fight. Years later, they start to rekindle the romance, but they've both got baggage the other will have to accept." I didn't manage to work in the baggage part as much as I wanted, but I was still pretty pleased with the result.

_This was a bad idea_, Hermione thought as she slowly made her way up the path to the Burrow. The sounds of laughter and music were coming from the house, and she could smell the wonderful aroma of Molly’s Christmas dinner wafting through the air. She paused at the front door, blowing out a breath. _I don’t know why I let Mrs Weasley talk me into coming this year, though I do miss this place terribly. And the people within it_, her mind added as she raised her hand to knock. _Especially him._

Almost immediately after her hand left the door, it was flung open by a smiling Ginny, who grinned even wider when she saw who had been knocking. “Hermione!” she said excitedly, moving to wrap her in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you came! You keep yourself too busy at that job of yours, you know, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you!” She squeezed Hermione’s hand as she pulled away, giving her a knowing look, and led her towards the kitchen. “Come on, I know Mum’ll want to say hello. Almost everyone’s here, we’re just waiting on Charlie. There was an emergency with one of the dragons and he had to stay and sort it out.” Hermione followed silently, allowing Ginny to chatter away as she took in the familiar warmth and coziness of the home she hadn’t seen in over two years. She glanced at the Weasley clock as they passed, her breath catching slightly at the sight of the two extra hands, hers and Harry’s, which had been added by Molly not long after Dumbledore’s funeral, and which were both currently pointing at ‘Home’.

Hermione was broken out of her reverie by a squeal and a crash as they entered the kitchen. “Hermione! I’m so glad you’ve decided to come!”

“Ow! Bloody hell, Mum!” Fred said mock-indignantly as he rubbed his shoulder where the plate of biscuits Molly had been levitating to the table had crashed into him.

Ignoring Fred completely, Molly moved to where Hermione stood and hugged her tightly. “I was worried you’d changed your mind, dear,” she said, her voice quivering slightly. Hermione shot Fred an apologetic look over Molly’s shoulder, but smiled when she saw that he was grinning. He winked at her, then fixed up the biscuit plate with a flick of his wand, plucking one off the top of the pile before sending it to its intended destination. Hermione rolled her eyes, silently glad to see that at least some things hadn’t changed.

“I’m glad to be here, Mrs Weasley,” she said as Molly finally released her. “Your home is just as lovely as I’d remembered.”

“Oh, thank you for saying so, dear, that’s very kind of you,” Molly said, glancing over at the table with a raised eyebrow as the plate of biscuits landed on it. “Now, have you said hello to everyone? They’re all in the living room, all anxious to see you – all the family, Harry, plus Remus and Tonks, of course, and I expect Ginny told you we’re still waiting on Charlie…” Hermione smiled at the look Ginny gave her as Molly continued talking, and she laughed inwardly at Ginny’s annoyance over a trait of her mother’s that she herself possessed. Suddenly Molly’s smile faded, her voice trailing off, as she looked past Hermione at the door of the kitchen. Puzzled, Hermione turned to see what Molly was looking at, and her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of the familiar red-headed figure standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Hermione,” he said, his voice deeper than she remembered.

“Hello, Ron,” she replied, grateful her voice managed to work enough to get those two words out.

An uncomfortable silence followed for several moments, which Fred finally broke by slinging an arm around Ginny and declaring, “Right then, I’m starving! Want to help me tell the rest of this lot to kindly get their arses to the table, Gin-Gin?”

Ginny grinned and elbowed Fred in the ribs. “I’ve told you not to call me that, git!” Fred reached over to ruffle Ginny’s hair with his free hand as they turned and left the kitchen. “You can help too,” Ginny said to Ron, yanking him by the sleeve of his jumper as they passed him. Hermione bit back a laugh at Ron’s indignant “Oi!” as they disappeared around the corner.

She stared at the spot Ron had vacated for several moments until she felt the light touch of Molly’s hand on her sleeve. “You are always welcome here, dear, no matter what may have transpired in the past,” she said kindly, glancing towards the kitchen door as the sound of voices began to carry down the hallway. “Arthur and I consider you one of the family.”

Hermione smiled, suddenly aware of how much she’d missed having people around she could call family. “Thank you, Mrs Weasley. That means a great deal to me,” she said, hugging Molly briefly before receiving an enthusiastic greeting from Arthur as the rest of the group began to trickle into the room.

~

Though he would rather die than admit it, Ron was nervous. He ran a hand through his hair as he paced his room, wondering for at least the eighth time that day if he should change his jumper. If he’d had his way, he likely would have been long past sober at The Leaky Cauldron instead of dreading the inevitable reunion that was about to occur. _Maybe she won’t show up_, he thought, though he knew that wasn’t likely.

“Ron! You coming down or what?” 

Ron started at the sound of Ginny’s voice. He berated himself silently for being so jumpy, then yanked his door open and poked his head out, looking down at where Ginny was standing on the landing below. “I’ll be there in a sec, Gin, don’t get your wand in a knot!” he said, sounding more annoyed than he’d intended.

“Prat,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes before turning and jogging down the stairs.

Ron stepped out of his room and flopped down on the top step just as there was a knock on the front door. He blew out a breath, knowing who it must be – there were only two left to arrive, and Charlie never knocked. Almost immediately, his suspicions were confirmed as the sound of Ginny’s squealed “Hermione!” drifted up from below. Several moments later, he stood determinedly. _Well, am I a Gryffindor or not?_ he thought, making his way down the stairs slightly slower than usual.

He could hear his mum babbling away about something or other as he approached, and he felt a stab of guilt at the knowledge that Hermione had stayed away from the place she considered a second home because of him. _Especially as she’s got no family to speak of since her parents were killed while we were off hunting for the Horcruxes_, he thought. _But she’s the one who – shit, I can’t start thinking about that now_, he resolved as he approached the kitchen.

Ron fully intended to stride in nonchalantly and throw Hermione a casual greeting before nicking a biscuit and asking his mum if dinner was ready. That plan went out the window when he saw her, however, and instead he stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly mute. She had her back to him, but somehow he knew that if she were to turn around he’d see that she was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. Her hair was just as bushy, but shorter, and he was thinking how it was a good length for her in an attempt to prevent his eyes from traveling downward when he suddenly realized his mum had stopped talking and was staring at him. 

Hermione turned to face him, her eyes widening just a bit, and Ron had the fleeting thought that damn, he missed the feel of those lips just before his own moved seemingly of their own volition. “Hi, Hermione,” he said, thinking ruefully that of course he would sound like a bloody toad at that precise moment.

Hermione didn’t seem to notice, however. “Hello, Ron,” she said, and suddenly, despite his earlier decision not to think on it, the memory of the night everything went pear-shaped sprang unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

_It had been a year and a half since Dumbledore’s death, but to Ron it felt more like a decade. Hogwarts had indeed closed shortly after the funeral as the war swung into high gear. The following spring, when Harry finally defeated Voldemort after finding and destroying the remaining Horcruxes, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there with him, as they had been since he set out for Godric’s Hollow. Shortly afterward, the school was reopened, and students returned prepared to follow an accelerated curriculum in order to get caught up on the year they had missed. After a grueling six months of what seemed like an endless stream of homework, the seventh years were finally able to reclaim the thing they had been robbed of the year previous – they sat their N.E.W.Ts, eager to leave their school days behind and discover what awaited them in their newly peaceful world._

_The night before the seventh years’ Leaving Feast, Ron was pacing the common room, waiting for Hermione to get back from rounds and whatever other Head Student things she had to do with Ernie Macmillan. The memory of their arguement that afternoon was still fresh in his mind. Hermione had told him that she wanted to wait a few years before having children, which seemed like an innocent enough statement, but had somehow ended up leading to a spectacular row that concluded with Hermione shouting, “Well, if that’s how you feel about it, I suppose there’s nothing left to say!” and storming off. Now Ron was worried. What did this mean for them, for their future? What was Hermione thinking now, and had she been gone so long because she was avoiding him? It was rather late and Harry had already gone up to bed, telling Ron as he went up the stairs that he should just find Hermione and apologise. Ron knew Harry was right, and finally, after one of the paintings complained that he was making her dizzy with all the walking in circles, Ron decided to go and do just that. He climbed out of the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s sleepy threat that she might not let him back in, and set off down the corridor._

_He had a pretty good idea where he might find them – they usually concluded their rounds with a quick meeting in a rather spacious alcove with a large window seat on the third floor. Even though they were only a couple of days away from leaving school for good, Ron knew better than to think that Hermione and Macmillan would deem that a sufficient reason to forego their normal routine. He rounded the corner into the alcove, ready to break the ice by teasing them for whatever bookish, rule-abiding activity they were up to, and instead stopped dead in his tracks. There, lying back on the window seat, was Hermione – with Macmillan directly on top of her, whispering something. And Hermione certainly didn’t seem to be eager to fight him off._

_“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Ron yelled, torn between storming off and beating the shite out of Macmillan. Both of them jolted, their heads turning swiftly to look over at Ron. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they all stared at each other, frozen. Then it suddenly appeared to dawn on the Head Girl and Boy what exactly was happening, and they immediately sprang into action, stumbling over each other as they attempted to both untangle themselves and explain._

_“Ron, listen, this isn’t what it looks like, it was-“_

_“Allow me to explain, Weasley, we were merely—and then suddenly-“_

_“Stop!” Ron said furiously, holding a hand up. He took a deep breath, using every bit of his willpower to keep himself from pummeling the life out of Macmillan. “I don’t want to hear it. It’s pretty bloody obvious what’s going on. I should’ve known I wasn’t…” He paused, voice cracking slightly. “Fine, Hermione, if that’s the way you want it, then I hope you’re happy.” And without another word or a backwards glance, he walked off, leaving the two of them dumbfounded and speechless._

_Ron avoided Hermione as much as possible for the next two days, refusing to tell Harry or Ginny anything about what had happened despite their persistent questioning. Upon his arrival back at the Burrow, there was an owl waiting from Hermione, which he returned unopened. Several more owls arrived in the weeks that followed, and all were returned, unread like the first. Even Macmillan owled him a couple of times, but he sent those back unopened as well. Harry and Ginny continued to pester him, as did his mum, urging him to see what Hermione had to say and work out whatever had gone wrong between them. But Ron stubbornly refused, too crushed and humiliated to bring himself to read any kind of explanation she may have had about why she had given up on him – on them – so easily. After a while, the owls began to lessen in frequency, and finally, two months later, they stopped completely. _

_Before Ron knew it, the weeks had turned into months, and the months into years. He heard about Hermione through Harry, Ginny, and others, but never had any contact with her directly. Ginny had scolded him harshly one evening, telling him that Hermione was avoiding the Burrow because of him. They were the closest thing to family she had, Ginny had said, but he had brushed her off, not wanting to reopen a wound that had never fully healed. Several times, he thought about contacting her, but never could bring himself to do it. _It’s too late,_ he had thought. _It’s just too late._ He didn’t want to hear about how she had long since moved on._

Later that evening, as they were all sitting around the magically expanded table with pudding and coffee, Ron stole a glance at Hermione. She was sitting at the opposite end of the table, in between Ginny and Fred, and the two girls were laughing at something Fred was telling them. Ron noticed that Hermione was trying to look scandalised and failing spectacularly, and he wondered absently what Fred was saying. He wanted to look away before Hermione noticed him staring, but he couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the slight pink tint to her cheeks from the mulled wine, the way her hair tumbled onto her shoulders and fell slightly over her face as she laughed, and the way her eyes sparkled with mirth. She suddenly glanced in his direction, and Ron’s chest tightened as her cheeks turned an even brighter pink and she quickly looked away again. He slumped back in his chair, his muttered expletive drowned out by the buzz of conversation all around him.

“All right, Ron?” Harry asked, draining the last of his coffee.

Ron turned to look at Harry and gave him a half smile. “Just tired, mate,” he said, patting his belly. “All that food.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling contentedly. “Your mum is the best cook I know.”

“You should tell her that, Harry, she’d be over the moon.” Ron grinned and glanced over at where Molly was talking to Fleur, pride bubbling up in him at Harry’s compliment. He noticed Bill watching him and raised an eyebrow in question, but Bill only winked at him and turned to talk to Charlie, who had arrived shortly after they had started eating. _Don’t know what the bloody hell that was all about,_ Ron thought, and shrugged as he turned back to Harry, eager to ask him about the upcoming Quidditch season and the Cannons’ chances at the Cup with their new star Seeker.

~

As everyone began to leave the table and trickle into the cozy living room, Hermione excused herself, wanting to get away for a moment from the lively chatter and the feel of Ron’s eyes on her. Ginny gave her a questioning look as she stood, but Hermione smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, Ginny. I just want to get a bit of air, and I haven’t been out in your back garden in so long. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Ginny studied Hermione for a moment, and then nodded once as if satisfied with her answer. “All right. See you in a bit.”

Hermione bundled up in her cloak and scarf, pulling on gloves and a hat as she stepped out into the snow. She hugged her arms to her chest, thankful she’d remembered to put a warming charm on her things before coming over. Clouds covered most of the sky, but the back garden seemed to be lit by some unseen source, and Hermione wondered why she’d never noticed it before. She cut across the large clearing just off the back of the house and started down the path through the trees, heading towards the open field where the Weasley children had frequently practised Quidditch. Seeing Ron again after so long had turned her emotions upside down, and she felt like a jumble of nerves and insecurity.

Reaching the edge of the field, she leaned against a tree, looking off into the distance at nothing in particular. _How could he have given up on me – on us – so easily?_ she thought, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. _But then, I gave up too, didn’t I,_ she reminded herself. _I should have tried harder to get him to understand. He likely believes our fight was the reason for what he thinks had happened._ It wasn’t the first time Hermione had berated herself for the past two years of them not speaking. She knew that if she had just been able to get Ron to listen to her, she could have cleared everything up and he would have been fine. But she also knew that Ron was stubborn, and that he had been absolutely crushed by what he thought he had seen. It was hardly surprising he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her after that. Hermione sighed, wishing for the hundredth time that she still had her Time Turner. _But I suppose it’s too late now, isn’t it. I’ve lost the only man I’ll ever love._

Hermione stood at the edge of the field for what felt like minutes, but could have been hours, before she finally swiped at her eyes and turned to head back. She knew Ginny would be worried if she stayed out much longer and sitting by a warm fire sounded like a rather good idea. Just as she reached the edge of the trees, she saw Ron standing a short distance away, his back to her, and she stopped, worrying her lower lip nervously. She didn’t want to do anything to make him uncomfortable, as her being there in his home was awkward enough already, but the urge to run to him and leap into his arms was almost overwhelming. _I suppose it’s really true that absence makes the heart grow fonder_, she thought as she studied his broad shoulders and the thick red hair that now reached just past his collar. _He’s wearing his hair longer_, she thought idly as she pulled her hat further down on her ears. _It’s amazing how one little misunderstanding can be so devastating_, she mused, her train of thought changing direction abruptly as she remembered the events of that night.

_Hermione was still stewing over that afternoon’s arguement with Ron as she headed to meet Ernie for rounds. She was already regretting storming off as she had done, but he had just made her so aggravated. _I tell him I don’t want children right away, and all he hears is that I don’t want children!_ she thought, still frustrated. She knew, however, that she needed to apologise for walking out on him, and she hoped that once he’d had time to calm down and realise what exactly she had meant, he would understand her intent. She waved to Ernie as she reached their meeting spot and silently resolved to seek Ron out as soon as rounds were over._

_After they had completed their patrol of the castle, which was surprisingly uneventful, Hermione and Ernie headed to the third floor alcove for their customary quick meeting to discuss any issues at hand. Ernie tended to dominate the conversation, but Hermione had figured out a way to get her thoughts and opinions expressed, although she did feel that sometimes he went into far too much detail over trivial matters. It was their last meeting before leaving school, and so they were planning how to ensure the seventh years’ departure would go as smoothly as possible. Hermione sat on the window seat and listened patiently to Ernie’s monologue as he paced back and forth in front of her, thinking that all his planning was really quite unnecessary considering they were all familiar with the process, having done it six times already. _Oh well,_ Hermione thought, though she was somewhat anxious to go and speak with Ron. _I’ll let him carry on – after all, this will be his final act as Head Boy._ She smiled, a bit amused at Ernie’s enthusiasm, just as he stopped directly in front of her and turned to face her._

_“I’m sorry, Hermione, here I’ve been talking nonstop and haven’t given you a chance to share your thoughts on the matter,” he said, gesturing for her to speak._

_Thinking quickly, Hermione said the first thing that came to mind. “Oh, no, Ernie, please continue. I really think you’ve got some wonderful ideas and I’d love to hear the rest,” she said as sincerely as she could, smiling sweetly up at him._

_Ernie opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud crash that made them both jump. “Smashing,” Ernie said sarcastically as a laughing Peeves flew into the alcove, carrying the helmet from a suit of armor._

_“Oooh, look what we have here!” he taunted, hovering above them. “Two lovebirds sneaking about in the dark!” Before they could protest, he tossed the helmet directly at Ernie and flew out of sight, cackling madly. Ernie ducked frantically to avoid the helmet, lost his balance, and went crashing forward into Hermione, pushing her back onto the window seat and landing directly on top of her._

_After a stunned pause, Ernie stammered, “Oh dear—terribly sorry—lost my balance there,” and attempted to stand. Before he could move far, however, Hermione felt a sharp tug on her hair and winced._

_“Ouch—hang on, Ernie, I think there’s something caught in my hair—“ she said, trying to see what it was out of the corner of her eye._

_Ernie instantly froze, then lowered his hand back to where it had landed, palm down, next to her head. “Oh-yes, I see it, it’s my watch. Here, let me just sort this out here…” he said, and Hermione was sure she was blushing just as much as he was at their rather awkward situation. Ernie braced himself against the seat with his knee to keep from crushing Hermione and reached over with his other hand as Hermione concentrated on remaining as still as possible. Several uncomfortable moments later, Hermione inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as Ernie muttered, “It’s just about…there. Got it.”_

_“What the bloody hell is going on here?”_

_They had been so focused on trying to get untangled that neither of them had noticed that someone else had walked into the alcove. Startled, they both looked to see who it was, and Hermione’s stomach dropped at the sight of Ron standing there with his fists clenched at his sides. _Oh, dear, what we must look like,_ Hermione thought, completely stunned. A heartbeat later, panic set in. _MOVE, Hermione, Ernie is ON TOP OF YOU!_ a voice inside her head shouted. Ernie seemed to have the same revelation, and they both scrambled to separate themselves, talking over each other in an attempt to tell Ron what had happened. He interrupted their stammering with a shout, and Hermione wished for what was likely the first time ever that Peeves had stayed around to see the result of his handiwork. She barely registered Ron’s words, both heartbroken and terrified at the look of pain and anger on his face. Tears pricking at her eyes, Hermione could only stand frozen as Ron stormed off down the corridor._

_“Merlin’s beard…I apologise, Hermione, this is quite—well, awkward to say the very least,” Ernie said uncomfortably. Hermione looked up at him and saw that he looked incredibly sheepish, his cheeks bright red._

_“Oh, Ernie, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was that menace Peeves!” Hermione said, her voice wavering as she began to cry in earnest. He had to listen to her; he had to let her explain…she couldn’t lose him, not when she loved him so much._

_Ernie made an odd motion as though trying to decide whether to hug her or pat her on the back, then appeared to think better of it and quickly retracted his hand. “Perhaps—erm—perhaps if I talk to him? That is, if I try to explain the circumstances?” he asked._

_Hermione sighed, swiping at her eyes. “Thank you very much for the offer, but I daresay that would just make things worse,” she said. “I—I’d better go see if I can find him.” And with a small smile to Ernie, she set off down the corridor._

_Hermione tried all the following day to get a moment with Ron, but by the start of the Leaving Feast she could no longer deny that he was very clearly doing everything he could to avoid her. He somehow managed to keep himself away from her right up to when it was time for them to leave, and just before they boarded the coaches to depart, Hermione sent off an owl, knowing the letter would beat Ron home._

_When the letter was returned unopened, Hermione stayed resolved, and simply sent another. Time and time again, she sent owls to the Burrow, only to have them all returned, the seals still intact. The weeks passed by and she grew more and more despondent. She knew she ought to simply go to Ron’s home and force him to talk to her, but she couldn’t bear the possibility of having the door slammed in her face. Finally, after two months and countless letters, she resigned herself to the fact that he would never speak to her again._

The tip of Hermione’s nose was getting slightly chilled and she suddenly realised she’d been staring at Ron’s back for several seconds. He seemed to be debating something with himself – he started to make a motion as though he was going to turn around and walk in her direction, then paused. _Oh, this is ridiculous,_ Hermione thought, quickly swiping at her eyes. _I might as well just get this over with._ Squaring her shoulders, she walked forward until she was clear of the trees and called out softly. “Ron?” Ron whipped around and Hermione gave him a nervous smile. “Hi.”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and Hermione suddenly felt rather weak in the knees. He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision, and crossed over to where she stood so that they were less than a foot apart. “Hi.”

~

Hermione had been gone for a while, and Ron was beginning to grow worried. He knew she was perfectly safe out in their back garden, but seeing her had awakened a strong need in him to never let her out of his sight again, despite his better judgement. He’d already had his heart broken, and he didn’t want to risk that happening a second time. Yet for all his pain, all his bitterness about the past, a feeling in his gut was telling him that none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he loved Hermione, more than he could possibly say, and he’d been without her for far too long. And if there was some small chance she could still love him too, he ought to take that chance.

Ron slumped down further in his chair, staring at the fire. _Should I go after her? What if I found her – what the bloody hell would I say? ‘Oi, Hermione, I know you cheated on me and all, but why don’t we give it another go?’ Yeah, right._ He glanced up and noticed that Ginny was looking pointedly in his direction and jerking her head towards the direction of the back garden. He shot her a ‘mind your own bloody business’ look and was about to chuck a Jelly Slug at her when Bill bent down beside him.

“Come with me for a sec,” he whispered. “I’ve got something for you.” Bill straightened up and Ron looked up at him, puzzled. “Come on,” Bill repeated softly, then walked towards the kitchen, looking back to see if Ron was coming.

Curious, Ron stood and followed Bill into the empty kitchen. “What’s this all about, Bill?”

Bill grinned. “I know what you’re thinking, little brother. Been there myself, actually. You know I’m not one for lectures like Mum, so I’m just going to say this: Life is short, kid. We’ve both been witness to that. And it’s bloody well too precious to let the thing we want most slip through our fingers.” He leaned in, and Ron’s eyes widened as his brother whispered in his ear. Straightening up, Bill pressed a small object into Ron’s hand, closing Ron’s fingers around it.. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you if anyone asks where you went. Good luck.” And with that, he winked and walked out.

Ron slowly opened his fingers and stared for several moments at the item lying in his palm. He knew as he quickly pocketed it that his brother had just given him a golden opportunity. The problem was that he wasn’t sure if he should take it. What if Hermione rejected him? Worse, what if she told him she was with someone else—maybe even Macmillan? Ron paced for several moments, then went out into the hall and stared at himself in the mirror. _You can do this,_ he told himself. _Bill’s right. Life is too short to spend it being miserable over the chance you never took. You’ll never be happy if you don’t at least try this._ Ron drew himself up to his full height, trying to look as confident as possible. “I _can_ do this,” he said aloud to his reflection as he grabbed his cloak from the nearby rack.

“That’s the spirit, dear!” the mirror said encouragingly as he raked a hand through his hair and strode purposefully into the back garden. Once he was outside, however, doubt once again reared its ugly head as he walked across the clearing. He came to a halt halfway to the path and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling as though his stomach was tied in knots. “This is stupid,” he mumbled aloud, turning back around to head into the house, but stopped again after only a couple of steps. _Shite!_ he thought, completely unsure and frustrated at himself for being so hesitant. _Do I want to risk it, or do I want to spend the rest of my life never knowing?_ He stood in the clearing, torn between a huge gamble and wilful ignorance, when suddenly he heard a very familiar voice call his name.

“Ron?”

He turned around immediately at the sound of Hermione’s voice, and her nervous smile as she said hi made his stomach do flip-flops. It only took a moment of looking into the face he’d missed more than he’d even realised for Ron to make his decision. He wanted to spend his life with Hermione, and he had to do everything in his power to make that happen. Hope filling him, he closed the distance between them. “Hi,” he said, not sure how in the hell he was going to go about this.

Hermione fidgeted nervously, obviously fishing for something to say. “I’d nearly forgot how lovely it is out here.” She looked around them briefly. “That light—where is it coming from?”

Ron had to think for a moment before he understood what Hermione was asking about. He was so used to the light being there that he hardly noticed it any longer. “Oh, that’s a charm. Mum set it back when we were little so we could come out here and play at night and she could still keep track of us.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s a good idea. I imagine you all were out here quite a bit.” They stood in silence for several moments, then Hermione worried her lower lip the way he knew she always did when she was unsure about something. “Ron, I’m not quite sure how to start this—there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve wanted to tell you for two years, and I’m really hoping you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“Hermione, really, it’s not—“ he started, only to clamp his mouth shut again when she reached out and touched his arm lightly.

“Please, you need to hear this,” she said, and before he could protest again she proceeded to explain to him the events of that night and what had happened before he arrived in the alcove. Ron listened, stunned, as she told him about Peeves’ part in the whole fiasco, and by the time she was finished all he could do was gape at her, completely at a loss for words. Finally, after several seconds, Hermione frowned, clearly worried. “Please, Ron, say _something_!”

Ron wanted to say something, but he had no idea what to say. _I’ve been a colossal idiot,_ he thought. _If the Ministry gave out the Order of Merlin for being a stubborn, thickheaded prat, I’d surely be awarded First Class._ “So the reason you and Macmillan were—erm—was _Peeves_?”

Hermione nodded. Suddenly faced with the knowledge that the past two years of misery had been for nothing, Ron did the only thing he could—he laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt. Finally, once he’d calmed down and was catching his breath, he noticed that Hermione was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping impatiently. “Are you quite finished?” she asked. “I’d like to know what on earth you find so amusing.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron said, sobering considerably. “It was either laugh or cry…so I laughed.” He shrugged, embarrassed.

Hermione’s expression softened. “I—I suppose I can understand that somewhat,” she said hesitantly.

It was now or never. Ron decided to lay it all on the line. “Look, Hermione, there’s something I need to tell you as well. Something I would have told you a long time ago if I hadn’t been so bloody stubborn,” he said, moving slightly closer to her. “I should have listened when you tried to explain what had happened. I shouldn’t have given up on us so easily. I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you have been an idiot,” Hermione said, smirking slightly as Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “But so have I,” she continued, more seriously. “I gave up on us as well. I’m sorry, too.”

Ron took a deep breath and made the final leap. He framed her face in his hands and looked at her for a long moment before saying softly, “I love you, Hermione. I always have and I always will. I don’t want to be without you anymore.”

Hermione made a small noise, and Ron wasn’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a squeak of astonishment. He didn’t have to wonder for long, however. As her eyes filled with tears, she said shakily, “I’ve never stopped loving you, ever,” and barely a moment had passed before Ron’s lips were crushed against hers in a desperate kiss.

Hermione felt as though her heart would burst as Ron kissed her. She slid her hands up his chest and grabbed handfuls of his cloak at the shoulders, pulling herself even closer to him. After being apart for so long, the feel of his lips against hers and his hands sliding along her neck and shoulders made Hermione feel as though her entire body was on fire. She didn’t think she could ever get enough.

Once his lungs began to protest, Ron pulled away reluctantly, his breathing slightly ragged. He slid his hands down to wrap around her waist as she snuggled into his chest and wondered just how in the hell he went without her for two years. “I don’t now how in the hell I went without you for two bloody years,” he said, deciding to voice what he was thinking.

“Well, that’s not something you’ll ever need to wonder again,” Hermione replied, her voice slightly muffled by his cloak.

Ron placed a finger lightly under her chin to get her to raise her head and kissed her softly. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” she said without hesitation.

“Then hold on tight,” he said, silently hoping Bill would make good on his promise to cover for them as he pulled his wand and Disapparated, taking Hermione with him.

Moments later, they had arrived in front of a small cottage. Hermione didn’t recognise it and frowned, confused. “Where are we?”

“This is Bill and Fleur’s place,” Ron replied as he took her hand and led her down the short path to the front door. “Apparently Bill thought we needed some time alone,” he said, then mentally slapped himself when he realised how that sounded. He glanced over at Hermione and saw that she was blushing furiously.

Hermione knew her cheeks were flushed, and she wondered what Ron would think if he were to discover what was going through her head at that moment. Ron cleared his throat, and she heard him whisper something in Latin as he pointed his wand at the door. He then unlocked the door with a key he’d pulled from his pocket, and Hermione could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell, it worked!” before stepping aside and letting her walk in first.

“It’s not much, but it’s got a wicked fireplace,” Ron commented as he led her through the house. Hermione gasped as they turned the corner into another room and it came into view. The fireplace was obviously the focal point of the otherwise modest home – it was quite large, about the same size as one of the Hogwarts fireplaces, and absolutely gorgeous. As Hermione admired the intricately carved mantle and highly polished wood, Ron explained, “Bill told me Ignatia Wildsmith used to live here yonks ago. He said all she cared about was having a really nice fireplace.”

“This is more than just ‘really nice’, this is the most beautiful fireplace I’ve ever seen!” Hermione exclaimed as she moved forward to get a closer look.

“Shall we test it out?” Ron asked as he came up behind her and pointed his wand at the fireplace. “Incendio!” A large fire immediately sprang to life, and Hermione pulled off her gloves and hat as she felt its warmth begin to heat her face.

“Are you sure it’s all right that we’re here?” she said uncertainly, turning to look up at Ron.

Ron bent down to kiss her forehead lightly before answering. “Sure I’m sure. Bill gave me a key and told me how to get past the wards, didn’t he?” he said a bit teasingly as he took Hermione’s cloak, gloves and hat. “I’ll just go hang these up,” he said, continuing to talk as he walked into the next room. “Bill may be getting on in years, but he’s still a pretty cool brother.”

“He’s not _that_ old, Ron,” Hermione said as he returned, having taken off his own cloak as well. “He’s only just turned 30!”

“As grateful as I am to him for this favour, I’d rather not talk about my oldest brother at the moment, if you don’t mind,” Ron said, his voice slightly husky. “I’d prefer to take this opportunity to show you just how much I bloody missed you.” Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as he pulled her to him, and she reached her arms up to wind around his neck as his lips descended on hers.

Time seemed to stand still as Ron kissed Hermione hungrily, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and plunging inside as she immediately parted them to grant him access. She tasted of spiced cider and chocolate and Ron groaned involuntarily as a bolt of desire shot straight through him. Hermione let out a whimper, the fingers of one hand traveling up to snake through his hair, and with that small noise Ron was completely undone. He pulled away just enough to be able to look at her, questioning her with his eyes and hoping with all his might she wouldn’t think it was too fast.

Hermione knew what Ron was asking as clearly as she would have if he had spoken the words aloud; the same thought had been on her mind, and she knew with all her heart that they’d wasted too much time being apart already. Every fibre of her being was telling her that she needed to be with him, to feel him again, and so she nodded, knowing he would understand what that meant. Ron didn’t disappoint. He immediately scooped her into his arms and carried her to the large couch that sat facing the fireplace, and they both toed off shoes and yanked off socks before he covered Hermione’s body with his own, holding the bulk of his weight up with his arms.

Ron looked at Hermione for a long moment, trailing a finger lightly along the neckline of her jumper. “You are so bloody beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his head so that their foreheads were touching.

“So are you,” Hermione replied simply as she reached one hand up to rest lightly on his cheek.

Ron had never realized just how much he could feel for one person. He just managed to get out a hurried whisper of “God, Hermione—want you so much—“ before he was kissing her with all the passion he could muster. Hermione responded immediately, wrapping her arms tightly around him and sliding one bare foot up and down his leg.

Several heated moments later, Ron felt the soft tickle of Hermione’s fingers at his waist, and he sat up and helped her to pull his jumper over his head. He pulled Hermione gently to a sitting position, and her jumper soon joined his on the floor. Shifting his weight, Ron pulled Hermione towards him so that she was straddling his lap. He kissed the hollow below her ear softly, his arousal increasing considerably as he felt a shiver go through her.

“I’ve missed you so much, Ron,” she whispered, her voice slightly shaky.

Ron met her eyes and brushed the hair gently from her face before responding firmly, ”I’m never giving up on us again, no matter what. That’s a promise.” He captured her lips in a lingering kiss before standing and pulling her up with him. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to feel pushed, if you think we—er—we’re going back to this too quickly,” he said.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t feel pushed at all. I love you so much, Ron. And I—I want you. It’s always been you,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper at her last sentence, but her eyes never leaving his.

That was all the cue Ron needed. He hastily shucked his trousers and pants as Hermione stripped as well, and Ron nearly lost control at the sight of her lying naked on the couch, soft and inviting and all his, always his. His need for her was a physical ache, pulling at him and driving him mad, but he held himself back and focused instead on Hermione, and on memorising every inch of her all over again.

Hermione’s eyes were glued to Ron’s lean, muscular frame as he positioned himself at her feet. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in a long time, and it nearly took her breath away. He began to kiss her thigh softly, gradually working his way up, and she had to grip the couch cushion tightly as pleasure coursed through her at the soft feel of his lips on her skin. He moved up slowly, lingering for a moment at the very top of her inner thigh, and Hermione moaned involuntarily as he prolonged the sweet torture by moving directly to her lower abdomen. Ron’s hand slid up her leg to land lightly on her hip as he kissed the valley between her breasts, and Hermione let a whimper escape as he moved to one breast, then the other, his tongue flicking out to tease her nipples. “Oh, Ron,” she whispered shakily as he laved at her neck, her back arching as the hand resting on her hip moved inward and Ron’s fingers teased softly around her centre, one finally slipping inside.

Ron nearly collapsed at the feel of how ready Hermione was for him, and he tilted his head so that his lips were brushing her ear. “God, Hermione, you are so wet,” he breathed, sliding his finger in and out slowly, his self-control quickly disintegrating. He kissed along her jaw line, the soft mewling noises she was making causing him to grow increasingly aroused until he was almost painfully hard. As he reached her mouth, he withdrew his finger and positioned himself at her entrance, crushing his lips to hers as he slid inside her with a muffled groan. He paused to allow her a moment to adjust to him, then began to move slowly, his tongue invading her mouth and matching the rhythm of his hips as he rocked them back and forth.

Hermione raised her hips to meet Ron’s, her pace easily matching his as though they had been apart for days instead of years. She returned his kiss fervently, her nails digging into his back briefly before she moved her hands down to slide over his bum, pulling him even deeper inside her with every thrust. Ron pulled his lips from hers with a gasp and buried his face in her neck as one hand palmed her breast. She whispered his name, dizzy from the torrent of passion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Ron knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the feel of Hermione’s small hands on his arse and the sound of his name on her lips and her warmth surrounding him. He grit his teeth in an attempt to prolong the inevitable, slowing his movements slightly. Hermione moaned softly, right into his ear, and Ron fought to keep a steady pace, his breathing growing increasingly ragged. “Hermione—feel—so—bloody—good—“ he managed as she rained kisses along his jaw line and down his neck. A few moments later, his last bit of control slipped away, and stars exploded behind his eyes as he came. He felt Hermione tighten around him and continued the now slightly erratic thrust of his hips, holding himself up on shaking arms as he helped bring Hermione to her release.

Hermione’s moan was quickly stifled by Ron’s lips covering hers, and she slid her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair as she felt the tension leave both their bodies. The tender, lingering kiss was a sharp contrast from the frantic, heated ones they’d just been sharing, and Hermione hummed softly with contentment, glad beyond words to be finally back right where she knew she belonged. She pulled Ron down so that his arms were no longer propping him up and molded herself to him, not quite ready to lose the warmth of his body covering hers.

Ron raised his head slightly to look at Hermione as she pulled him down and was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes. “Hermione? What’s wrong?” he asked softly, immediately concerned.

Hermione smiled, to his immense relief. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is _right,_ for the first time in a long time.” She softly kissed one cheek, then the other. “You’ve come back to me,” she said, cupping his cheek with one hand.

Ron’s eyes closed briefly, and he knew that even if Hermione could forgive him now, it would take him a long time to forgive himself for what he’d put her through. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered as he reached up and took her hand from his cheek, softly kissing the palm before threading their fingers together.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” Hermione said. “We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.”

“That we do. And I don’t plan on wasting one bloody second,” Ron said, smiling as he kissed Hermione’s forehead. And a moment later, neither of them was in a position to say much of anything at all.


End file.
